Chapter Two

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One month later, you had packed up all of your essential belongings into one suitcase (plus a cat carrier) and you were in your jeep, headed towards Logan airport. Your dad had left to go back home last week, and you had said your goodbyes then. As you waited in traffic, horns honking and men yelling, a yowl came out of the carrier on the passenger's seat.

"I know Muff, but we gotta get you to California. You'll be out in a few hours."

Your phone rang. You clicked the bluetooth button, and rolled up your windows.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Wolfe? This is Warlock."

"Hello sir. What can I help you with?"

"I wanted to double check that you are set to arrive on base by tomorrow?"

"Yes sir. I am headed towards the airport right now."

"Great. And, I wanted to ask. Your callsign. Any ideas?"

"Oh. I'm not sure, sir."

"Maverick suggested Echo, but I liked Mimic."

"... Echo is perfect sir."

"Roger." He hung up. You smiled to yourself, until another pathetic mewl from Muffin made you roll your eyes.

Nine hours later, you had landed in California and were now waiting for your car at the dealership, Muffin happily roaming around on his leash. There were a lot of new smells for him to sniff here, so he was frolicking to his heart's content. As the agent pulled up with a black jeep similar in style to your beauty back in Boston, you shoved Muffin back into his carrier, against his best wishes. The agent got out of the car and handed you the keys.

"She's yours."

You put your suitcase in the back, plopped Muffin in the passenger seat, and sat in the front. This was an old car, but it had been cheap, and didn't have a ton of miles on her, so you were pretty happy. The car had no A/C, no bluetooth, no radio, and the windows rolled down with a crank, but she was fine for what you needed. You decided she reminded you of a Bessie, so that was her name now. You cranked down your windows as you pulled onto the road outside the airport, then leaned across the seat to open the passenger side window. As you drove down the road towards the highway, you spotted a Goodwill. You pulled over and quickly hopped out of the car. 20 minutes later, you had a handful of CDs. As you peeled out of the parking lot, you stuck a random CD into the player. It turned out to be The Clash, and London Calling blared over Bessie's speakers. She may be old, but the bass on this Jeep was incredible. You thrummed your fingers on the wheel in time to the beat.

An hour later, you pulled off the highway towards the beachside tourist traps. You were close to base, but wanted to stop for a bite to eat first. You walked into a small burger joint right off the beach, Muffin tailing behind on his leash. The host led you to a small booth in the back, where you sat and ordered an iced tea and a bacon burger. As you sipped on your drink, eagerly waiting for your first meal of the day that wasn't airline peanuts, a tall man walked through the door and greeted the cashier behind the counter. He sat at the bar, but didn't order anything. He was just there to talk. He had on an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt over a white tank top, and a pair of soft blue jeans, held up with a belt. A pair of Aviator sunglasses hung off the front of his shirt. He had a thick porn 'stache, but it was kind of working for him. You weren't usually a facial hair person, but you could appreciate this man's well groomed moustache. He looked around him, scanning the room, looking for someone. He faltered as he made eye contact with you, keeping your eyes locked for a few seconds too long, until Muffin started headbutting you for pets. The man kept scanning the room. His gaze flicked back over to you, so you smiled at him. The waitress walked over with your food, distracting you entirely because no matter how attractive this man was or what he may make you feel, this meal was much more important. As you thanked the waitress and she walked off, your gaze flicked back up to the seat at the bar, but the man was gone. You sighed, knowing full well you'd never see him again, and dug into your delicious meal.

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